MiG Pilot: the Final Escape of Lt. Belenko

«I am sorry; that is quite impossible. The news is everywhere, all over the world. Now the Russians are demanding that we return you and your plane. But we will not return you. You do not have to worry. You will be very safe, and we will do all you have asked. It will take a while became of red tape. Have you heard this phrase 'red tape'? There are bureaucrats everywhere.»

«Yes, I know about bureaucrats.»

«Tomorrow you will go to Tokyo. For your security we will use a military plane.»

«I am ready.»

The Japanese shook hands and rose to leave. «You cannot realize how great an incident you have created for Japan, the Soviet Union, and the United States. We are under the greatest pressure from the Russians. But we will not deliver you to them because that would be contrary to our law and our democracy. Do not worry.»

He is sincere. That is what they mean now. But what if they cannot stand the Soviet pressure? No, I believe him. I must believe him.

He slept poorly and noticed that the security men sitting on the other bed were replaced about 2:00 A.M. Early in the morning they brought him a suit; the jacket fitted, but the pants were too small. They sent out for another; the pants fitted, but were too long, and the jacket was far too large. There being no more time for fittings, the Japanese fetched some scissors and shortened the pants by six inches. Attired in pants that now extended barely to his socks, a drooping coat, a funny hat that was too big, and dark glasses, he looked very much like a clown.

They exited through the hotel kitchen into an alley, but swarms of reporters and photographers had anticipated them. The security men bulled through the journalists, hustled him into a car, and raced away with the press in pursuit. Approaching a large intersection, the official Japanese cars maneuvered until they were five abreast, then at the intersection dashed away in different directions, confusing the press as to which should be followed. By a circuitous route, Belenko arrived at a garbage dump outside town, and a helicopter swooped down. In thirty seconds he was flying away.

The helicopter set down at the Chitose base next to a military transport whose engines were running, and as soon as Belenko and his escorts boarded, it took off. Because of noise in the plane, designed to carry freight rather than people, conversation was difficult, and during most of the flight Belenko gazed in solitude and marveled at the Japanese landscape. Every inch of arable land, even precipitous slopes, appeared to be meticulously cultivated. Towns and villages looked neat and orderly. Nowhere was waste or spoliation visible. The whole countryside looked to him like a beautiful and lovingly tended garden.

How paradoxical the world is. The Japanese have little land, few resources. But look what they have done with them. I can see for myself.

At the airport outside Tokyo another horde of aggressive photographers and reporters blocked their way, and camera flashes momentarily blinded Belenko. Again, security men shoved through the mob, and they sped away in a convoy of cars, pursued by the journalists on motorcycles. The chase astounded Belenko. The security officers and police were communicating with radios smaller than their hands, activated, he guessed, by the same kinds of transistors the Russians had to steal from the Japanese to equip MiGs. The reporters also had the little radios and were tracking the motorcade by monitoring the police frequencies.

How can this be? Why, if this happened in the Soviet Union, the KGB would catch those journalists and send them to the camps for espionage.

The official cars swerved to the curb, and a Japanese jumped out and ran to a telephone booth to make a secure call by landline. After he returned and they drove off, the interpreter explained. «We are so sorry, but it has been decided that we must take you to a prison. We have no other place where we can guarantee your security. At the moment the prison will be the safest place for you in Tokyo.»

By means similar to those employed in Hakodate, they eluded the pursuit at a traffic circle, the cars peeling off down different streets, and about ten minutes later they entered a naval compound. «There is an American here who wishes to speak with you.»

The Dark Forces. I'm going to meet the Dark Forces. What will they be like? What will they do with me?